Hello from high above the Pacific, somewhere between Australia and Canada! I am just returning home from a very exciting race at Ironman Australia. Oh it was more than a race. It was a journey. No actually it was a retreat - you see, I traveled to Australia alone and in my ”alone” time I was able to appreciate how blessed I am to have found a career that allows me to become part of a community on the other side of the world from my “home community”. There were so many classic, happy moments on this trip that built my passion for life and sport to an even higher level. One of those happy moments was winning Ironman Australia for the third consecutive year. Another was racing to my fastest career Ironman time - 9 hours and 3 minutes - besting my previous best time by 16 minutes on the same course in 2003. But probably one of the best moments for me was being “adopted” by twenty-eight 6-year old children at Tuncurry Public School and being embraced by their unaffected, honest little hearts.

I arrived in Sydney on the Saturday, eight days before the April 4th race-day. Keeping with our yearly tradition, I was picked up by my Aussie mates, Dannielle and Kim, who work for IMG (International Management Group). We drove the 4 hours to Forster and I settled into my apartment overlooking Forster's main beach. There is no lovelier sight than the sunshine and ocean from your balcony all day, everyday. It was the same apartment that I shared with my dear friends, Teresa and Nigel, in 2003. But this year, I was responsible for making my own memories. And since preparing for an Ironman is all about self-discovery, I realized that this week leading up to the race was more of a retreat - a renewal of sorts - as opposed to a "let's get this race over with" sort of week.

Despite traveling for about 30 hours, I headed out for a run and a swim and then off to church to re-connect with my favourite priest of all time - Fr. Tony. On one of my "anxious" days later in the week, Fr. Tony was the sounding board that I needed and he helped me re-route my anxiety into a quiet acceptance. I quickly realized that I was not alone at all. And so, the retreat began.

With each passing day, there was something that caused me to pause and love being a professional triathlete. One major highlight was being adopted by the class of 6-year old children at Tuncurry Primary School. Each year, the local businesses in Forster and Tuncurry adopt an athlete. And this year, the tourism consultant, Wendy, asked me if I wouldn't mind being adopted by her daughter's class and go and have a chat with them. Wednesday was the day. The students prepared for my visit by decorating their classroom windows with Canadian flags, pictures of moose and a cheering banner with my race number drawn on it. The sight of those decorations was truly heart warming. I met the students and spoke to them about Canada and they asked me some questions - there is nothing more pure than a question from a 6-year old. Aside from the typical triathlon questions, they asked me how to build a snowman. I told them it was like taking your bubble gum out of your mouth and rolling it in sugar - it would grow and grow and grow - eventually, you'd have a snowman! They asked me whether it ever snowed so much that I couldn't find my house or my car. When they found out that I had two dogs, they wanted to hear all about Brunswick and Madison and then tell me about their dogs. The most fantastic thing was when they each presented me with a letter wishing me well. Some classics were "Dear Lisa Bentley, I hope you win the race and don't get too wet, Love Ashleigh" or "Dear Lisa Bentley, I hope you come in second in the race and my Uncle Bob comes in first, Love Katie". Beautiful.

When I left that classroom, I realized that I would not have had that experience at all if I were not a professional athlete. In that moment, I realized how blessed I truly was to have a career that I was passionate about and that brings so much warmth to my life. Swimming, biking and running are only part of my "job".

The next day, the Ironman parade of nations passed through downtown Forster. I had the privilege of riding in a convertible at the front of the parade. That was definitely a "smell the roses" moment. I got to meet lots of people along the route and once again, I felt at home in this special community.

On Friday, I was able to visit the children at Holy Name Primary School for a little question and answer session. The whole school was assembled outside in the courtyard. They had also prepared signs for cheering on race day. The neat thing was that on Saturday, when I was checking in my race gear for the race the following day, some of the young boys from Holy Name were volunteering and they had decorated a truck with my race number (as well as some other athlete's numbers). Seeing their lovely, innocent faces made what can be an anxious time (checking in your race gear), another "smell the roses" time.

In terms of the race itself, all the usual race things were happening. I was doing my daily training, my daily visualization and I was sorting out some of the logistical items that can be unnerving - things like making sure that my tires were in perfect condition and ensuring that I fully understood the technical elements of the race such as the drafting rules. Basically, in the days leading up to the event, I ensured that I took control of the elements that I could control and as the event got closer, I gave up trying to control the dynamic things that I had no control over. Giving up control is such a freedom and definitely is a by-product of living in the moment and something that my coach, Lance, and I have worked on for 5 years!

Finally, race day dawned. It had been between 27- 30 degrees Celsius all week and race day followed suit. In fact, it was so warm that the water temperature was too warm for wetsuits and so I arrived at the race site to learn that it would be a non-wetsuit swim. Here is where the mental rehearsal comes in. I promised myself that I would not let anything pull me off-task. In my race prep, I try to anticipate some of the curveballs and so my response to the non-wetsuit rule was uneventful. Little did I know that two more curveballs would come my way. At 5:50 a.m., I was rushing through the mass of 1500 competitors to get to the swim start and I bumped my hip into a fence and ripped my racing suit in the leg. Then I stepped on something sharp. I saw the tear in my suit and I was concerned that it might tear even further and I would end up swimming and biking with half a suit. My mind quickly processed the event - "control what you can control" - I was racing and if my suit wasn't going to cooperate than I suppose that I would be making headlines in other way - tear or no tear - I certainly wasn't going to let a tear affect my race. Then the foot - "gee, what is in my foot? Oh it is nothing. Get to the swim start. Wait check your foot." So I lifted my foot and saw a thumbtack jammed into the ball of my foot. I yanked it out. I wondered if it would affect my run. I convinced myself that the pain, if any, would be nothing compared to Ironman pain. Infection would have to wait 9 hours until I was finished my race.

After a swim warm-up, the gun sounded and we were off. Last year, I got kicked in the face and took home a black eye as a souvenir. This definitely weighed on my mind a bit in my pre-race visualization and even during the swim itself. But I was prepared to take another hit for the sport if that was what was coming to me. I got out nice and clean and swam hard. I felt better and better as the swim continued. After breaking my elbow and ribs in December, my swimming had really struggled since I was forced to take a good 4 week break from any swimming and then it was another 2-3 weeks before I was able to do any sort of quality swim training. In February, my swimming was pretty desperate. But luckily, I was training in Clermont, Florida, home of the USAT Training center and 50 m outdoor pool. Being in a beautiful, outdoor pool bathed in sunshine, I was eager to swim everyday and work on my stroke. And, good swimmers surrounded me. I sucked swim tips from everyone - Sheila Taormina, Nigel, Jeff, Dave and Jackie and I swam with the master's swim team coached by Emily. Over a period of three weeks, my swimming improved dramatically and that just made me want to swim more and, of course, having an outdoor pool 5 km from my accommodation made swimming accessible and easy. All of that said, I exited the swim at Ironman Australia having had the swim of my life. I exited about 30 seconds behind Belinda Granger who last year gapped me by about 2 minutes. I will never be thankful for breaking my elbow and ribs, but maybe it made me so desperate that I finally revamped my swim stroke making some overdo modifications.

I got off onto the bike in 2nd place. I lost Belinda right away in the mix of other athletes. I had hoped to stay as close as possible to her for as long as possible, but I also know that I am internally motivated enough to push myself hard all day without any rabbit to catch. My coach, Lance Watson, and I had decided that the most important part of my Ironman race would be the bike ride. In order to put myself in a position to podium at the Hawaii Ironman, I have to ride faster and then back up a hard ride with a fast run. Last year in Kona, I had a break-through cycle leg, but my run suffered a little bit. This is the year to raise the bar on the bike ride and back it up with a 3-hour to 3:05 marathon. So I set off on the ride to break barriers and ride as hard as I could.

I really enjoyed the Ironman Australia bike ride. I rode aggressively and tactically. I was losing time to Belinda, but I just kept asking myself if I was riding as hard as I could. My response was always "yes". Some part of the ride got crowded with cyclists and this was frustrating, but I had prepared mentally for this and I responded by riding aggressively and staying out of the draft-zone. A drafting penalty here means a 10-minute stand-down penalty and that is a huge risk. Often riders would pass me, snuggle in behind the rider in front and then touch their brakes in order to stay legal. The trouble with that is that I'm now behind them and that would mean that I would have to touch my brakes to stay legal. I just cannot imagine touching my brakes in a race. So I found myself getting out of the draft zone as quickly as possible either by dropping back naturally or re-passing the rider. This took a lot of mental energy to continue to react to this dynamic. Inevitably and thankfully, I did find myself riding alone much of the time.

At each turnaround, I would gauge my time to Belinda. I was continually losing time to her. However, I never allowed myself to get discouraged because I knew that I was riding as hard as I could - my heart rate monitor and internally perceived effort kept me honest. I also remember Lance's advice to me in our last telephone conversation before the race. He told me to be good to myself. So in the spirit of "loving myself", I decided to stop timing my time gaps to Belinda ahead of me and to the women behind me. I was on task, focused and riding hard. That had to be good enough.

must admit that this "riding hard" thing is pretty tough. The mental focus required to push your body hard for 5 to 5.5 hours on the bike is quite extraordinary, after all, cycling is done "sitting down" and it is easy to coast. The last 30 minutes of the bike ride were pretty tough. My hip flexors really started to hurt likely from pushing so hard in circles throughout my pedal stroke. But my reward was my fastest ever Ironman bike split of 5 hours and 6 minutes. My previous best was 5 hours and 15 minutes.

It is quite mind boggling to think that I rode my fastest ever bike split by almost 10 minutes and Belinda Granger, cyclist extraordinaire, rode 12 minutes faster than me! She was having a fantastic day - a by-product of her new focus on the sport and her dedication to improvement. I got off the bike in 3rd place and began the run with a 12 to 13 minute deficit from Belinda, the race leader. But in the spirit of being good to myself, I stayed positive. I remembered all of my great training runs in Clermont. I believed in my ability and in my pursuit of excellence. This race was my reward for traveling to Clermont for 6 weeks. This race was my reward for completing the hardest Ironman training block that I had ever endured. Besides, I had twenty-eight 6-years cheering for me!

Off I went on the marathon. The first few kilometers didn't feel especially chipper and yet, I was running 4 minutes per kilometer, which was way too fast. Hey Sherlock, maybe that was why you didn't feel too great!! I used the first 10 km to settle into 3-hour marathon pace, but still went through 10 km a bit quicker than normal. I felt quite good physically, but mentally, I just wanted to be done so that I didn't have to think about pace, time, nutrition or technique anymore. So, I put myself on my training run routes and I tried to pretend that it was just a normal long run day with the bonus of having people to chase. And I reminded myself to be good to myself. Whenever I felt anxious about catching Belinda or about the fact that this was "THE RACE", I gave myself a pat on the back for getting this far, this fast. I was having a breakthrough race and tried to focus on celebrating that during the marathon rather than focusing on Belinda. But that said, I knew that a 2:57 marathon would deliver a sub 9-hour Ironman. So while being good to myself, I was also eager to push myself toward that goal.

Halfway through the marathon, I was feeling good and light and moving well. I had taken a big chunk out of Belinda's 13-minute lead and my 21 km split was in the right place for a sub 3-hour marathon. For the next 6 km, I fell off of my goal pace a little bit and I don't really know why. My energy felt good and my motivation was good. Then, as I hit the hills for the second time at around 26 to 36 km, my knee started to hurt. I think that I may have tweaked my adductor negotiating some of the sharp turns on the course and moving around some of the athletes on their first lap (while I was on my 2nd lap). After 7 hours of racing, all of these seemingly simple movements can be challenging and can cause strain to a fatigued body. Well, my little knee was screaming. So I respected my knee and ran a little less aggressively over that hilly section.

At about 28 km, I caught Belinda. The Ironmanlive coverage says that I passed her and no words or acknowledgement was exchanged. That could not be further from the truth. You see, Belinda is one of the kindest and most lovable professional athletes on the planet. You can't shut us up at the best of times and so how could we resist having a wee chat during our Ironman workday? She was also having the race of her life and even though I passed her, she did not falter one single bit. She held steady and kept up her effort and that was a huge accomplishment. It would have been easy for her to get dejected after giving up the lead after 8 hours of racing. But in true Ironman spirit, she held on.

Now in the lead, I was really ready to get the race over. Once again, I put myself on my training run routes in Clermont. The flat section was like my run around Lake Minneola in Clermont. The hilly section was like running on the clay roads. I thought about my training partners. A bit of my race belonged to them - Gord, Brandon, Nigel, Dave, Jackie, Graham, Kevin and others. Yes, Ironman is a solo effort, but it is not a solo journey and many shared my journey.

The run down the finish chute was fabulous. So many Aussies cheered and welcomed me back. The support that I received all week and on race day made me feel like a little adopted Aussie. I crossed the line in 9 hours and 3 minutes - a huge personal best. And while I missed seeing my best friend, Teresa, at the finish-line this year as I did last year, I could feel my family and friends smile knowing that I had performed well and finished safely. And I could hear them say, "Ok, now get home so we can celebrate!"

My little retreat was over and there was a lot to celebrate. Winning Ironman Australia in my best time ever is something that may never happen again --- ok, maybe it will happen at the Hawaii Ironman (hee hee!!!) -- and so I will lock that away in my "best ever" memories cabinet. Realizing how sport helps fulfill my life goals is another something to celebrate. And being adopted by those 6-year olds, well, that is the gift that keeps on giving. I keep reliving it every time I read one of their little letters, "Dear Lisa Bentley, I hope you come in second and my Uncle Bob wins the race." I wonder how Uncle Bob did?

Thank you for your support. Lisa